


Don't Even Need to Touch Me, Baby

by bluehwys



Category: The Losers, The Losers (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2010-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:44:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehwys/pseuds/bluehwys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been weeks since they've been able to get a moment alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Even Need to Touch Me, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Losers Kink Meme on LJ. The prompt was: one of the team taking a moment to relieve a little pressure.

It's been weeks since they've been able to get a moment alone. There's always _something_ that needs to be done, or stolen, or hacked, or killed, or sneaked into in the dead of night, and Aisha's getting _fucking sick of it_. She wants an orgasm damnit, and she wants Clay to give it to her. She wants his mouth on her, his hands pushing and pulling and bruising her, his cock in her, deep enough to almost hurt. She wants to drag her nails down his chest and hear him hiss in a breath at the sting of it, wants to bite at that spot behind his ear that makes him growl and grab at her, wants his taste in her mouth and his weight pushing her into the mattress.

She huffs out a breath in frustration and slams the pieces of the gun she's cleaning back together, even though she knows better, was taught to treat her weapons better than that. Cougar looks over from his own gun with a slightly raised eyebrow but of course says nothing, and that just makes her scowl even more because she knows for a fact that he and Jensen went out last night and got laid, because Jensen's been obscenely chirpy and Cougar's been all smug and she just wants to punch them both. Instead she curses them in Arabic and stalks out of the room, hearing Jensen's "Dude, what'd you do?" to Cougar before anger carries her out of earshot.

She slams the door of the bedroom she and Clay are sharing (and for the first time in a long time their current safehouse is an actual _house_ with separate rooms with doors and bathrooms and an honest-to-god _kitchen_ ) and paces the length of the room, trying to burn off energy but only working herself up more.

Clay's out _again_ doing something _important_ with Pooch, and even though she knows that Max is the priority, knows that nothing else matters but finding and killing him, she'd like to have a day (or night, whichever) where Clay doesn't have to go anywhere or do anything and she doesn't have to torture or maim someone and they can just _fuck_ until they're _exhausted_.

She gives up on pacing and flops down on the bed, trying to slow her breathing and calm her mind, but not really making any progress. She closes her eyes and tries again to clear her thoughts, but instead finds herself imagining, not their usual rough and frenetic coupling, but the more rare, sleepy early-morning sex where movement is languid and drowsy and touches are soft and slow and neither of them are awake enough to do more than the bare minimum (or remember that she wants to kill him).

Her hands are folded on her stomach, and Aisha slips one beneath her shirt and just rests it there on her skin while the images play out in her head. It almost always starts the same way…

 _Clay rolls over and curls around her from behind, kisses the back of her shoulder, the back of her neck, behind her ear. His cock nestles snug against her bottom, and as she comes awake she slowly stretches and wriggles against him, a playful kind of tease that makes him smile against her neck._

She slides her hand up to just under her breasts, pushing her shirt up in the process and uses her other hand to pull it up to her chin. Her bra gets pushed up also, and she catches a nipple between her fingers, pinching and pulling it erect.

 _He cups one of her breasts in his hand, gently kneading it and running the rough pad of his thumb across her nipple until it stands up. She moans softly, arches into his touch, and reaches back to trail her fingertips along his thigh._

She undoes her pants and pushes them and her panties down her hips just far enough to gain access. Her fingers slip through damp curls, and she makes a brief mental note to make time for a quick trim, before finding her clit and rubbing a few slow circles around it. She pushes her fingers down through her folds to her opening, dips a fingertip in and pulls the moisture back up to her clit.

 _He pulls her thigh back across his, spreading her open and sliding a hand down to cup her gently, his fingers pushing against her opening while his thumb circles her clit, getting her wet, making sure she's not_ too _wet, because even sleepy like this she enjoys a bit of rough. She groans low in her throat, moves her hips as best she can, and he kisses her neck and shoulder again, nips at her ear._

Her fingers move faster, press harder, dip down to press into herself as her thumb circles her clit and her hips lift and move. Cougar and Jensen are downstairs and this is an old house and sound carries, so she makes sure to be as quiet as she can, breathing through her nose and biting her lips shut. Even so she can't help whimpering a bit and grunting softly at the slick sound of her fingers in her pussy.

 _Clay lifts her leg a bit higher, shifts slightly, and then he's pushing into her slowly, humming a low noise of pleasure into her ear as she sighs and shifts to take him in. The angle's not right for serious deep thrusting, but it's just fine for drowsy lovemaking, and he moves shallowly inside her while she strokes herself, her fingers dipping down to either side of his cock and slicking back over her clit again._

One hand squeezes her breast while the other is buried three-fingers deep in her pussy, thumb circling and pressing hard on her clit, feet planted on the bed and hips lifting with every thrust of her fingers. She's close, can feel it building deep inside, all her muscles tensing and straining in anticipation, and she just needs a bit more, a little faster and harder, and her breathing is harsh and she's _whining,_ for godssake and… oh… yes… there… god…

 _He nudges her over just slightly, so she's partly on her side and partly on her stomach and the change in angle is just enough to send her over the edge, and she clenches around him, muffling her cries in the bedding, and he grunts harshly and spills inside her, holding her tightly, pinning her to the bed while they both catch their breath. Then she moves, and he slips out of her, and she turns in his arms to face him. He smiles at her, that slow and lazy smile that never fails to make her panties melt whenever he turns it on her, and she smiles back._

There's nothing but white noise in her ears, the sound of her blood rushing through her veins as she comes down from her orgasm, breathing hard and moving her fingers oh-so-gently across her clit, relishing the aftershocks. Her brain's pleasantly hazy and she feels calmer than before, more relaxed, but still kind of on edge. It was a good orgasm, but not really the kind that she'd wanted. She needs the kind of orgasm only a good hard fucking will get her.

The soft sound of the door snicking shut breaks through the fog in her brain and she's lunging for her gun on the nightstand before she even realizes she's doing it, her pants around her thighs only slowing her down a fraction and _damnit_ she should have been paying _attention_ , but it's only Clay with his back to the door, palming himself through his trousers and watching her with _that_ smile. She smiles back and lays the gun down, then stretches out again with her fingers trailing down her stomach to her cunt.


End file.
